


The Haunting of Godric's Hollow

by crow (witchfire)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Biting, Bloodplay, Bottom Harry, Bottom Harry Potter, Cum Eating, Dark Magic, Fear, Godric's Hollow, Haunted House, Horror, M/M, Rimming, Sudden smut, Top Voldemort, creepy semen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchfire/pseuds/crow
Summary: Harry Potter has fallen on hard times following the end of the war and a rough breakup. He decides to visit his family's long abandoned home for some much needed time to think, but he is instead forced to face one of his greatest fears.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 21
Kudos: 218





	The Haunting of Godric's Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a bit of an experiment for me, an attempt at playing around with some themes I'm using in a longer story. It starts with a classic haunted house setting but then the smut takes over at the end.

“Don’t worry Hermione, I’ll be fine.” Harry smiled at his friend. They were standing by the door of his little apartment, a backpack full of snacks heavy on his shoulder.

“I know,” she nodded, smoothing a hand down her hair, “it’s just that big old houses can be so scary at night. I know I’d be frightened if I had to fend for myself. Are you sure you don’t want some company?”

“I’m kind of looking forward to the alone time. Besides, it’s only one night, how bad could it be?”

She sighed and gave him a big hug. He rested his chin on her head and squeezed, then stepped back and told her to give Ron his best. After forcing him to promise to stop by as soon as he was back, she apparated away.

Harry had recently received a notice from Gringotts alerting him that his parent’s former home was due for inspection and ward renewal. Professionals would have to enter the property to ensure everything was up to code, both physically and magically, and until then all apparition or connection to the floo network would be impossible. 

The notion got inside Harry that he hadn’t spent much time in what would have been his childhood home. Something like nostalgia prompted him to make a day of going through whatever had been left behind for so many years. He would spend the day exploring and then set up camp in one of the rooms for the night- definitely not his former bedroom. That was a bit too unsettling but he didn’t think he’d have any issue sleeping in a common area.

It would be nice to get away from everything, even if just for a day. Life had turned rather awkward following his breakup with Ginny. Ron was still his closest friend but Ginny had been staying at his place, so it was difficult to visit until she moved on. Hermione wasn’t much better, her job at the Ministry took up almost all of her time. It didn’t help that she had all but told him that she doubted he could manage living on his own. This expedition to Godric’s Hollow would be a step toward proving her wrong.

The Potter’s house was tucked in the far back corner of Godric’s Hollow, perched on a steep hill overlooking the sleepy town. It was just far enough from civilization to feel isolated, swarmed by ancient trees looming over a long drive connecting it to the main road. Harry had to apparate to the road at the base of the hill and make the trip up on foot.

A thin stream ambled beside the path, creating a border setting it aside from deeper woods. The weather was chilly and still that morning, darting dragonflies hovering near the water reflected off the slow-moving water. The air felt fresh and clean, invigorating Harry’s lungs as he walked.

The house sprung into view unexpectedly as the road curved around the trees. The front lawn was overgrown and wild, tangled vines covering the wide porch. Harry cleared a path and dropped his bag on the porch before taking some time to explore the lawn. The taste of stale magic hung on the air, a telltale sign that the wards were in need of renewal. Whatever spells kept the lawn in control were long gone, giving way to patches of long grass and countless dandelions. A bare oak tree sprawled high over his head, covering the yard with its huge shadow. He walked over to the tree and rested against the trunk, wondering about the times he could have spent with his family beneath its curving branches.

An intrusive thought popped in, suggesting that if things hadn’t gone so wrong with Ginny he could have had the chance to let his own children play in the yard someday. His jaw clenched at the thought and he hurried back to the porch, hoping going inside would distract him from his melancholy. 

A lion-headed door knocker greeted him as he approached the front door. He pressed his right index finger into its open mouth. Magic bubbled around his finger, verifying he was a Potter before the door slowly creaked open. Musty air washed his face as he stepped inside.

The entryway was a simple room, a few landscape paintings hanging on the walls. A staircase leading to the second floor stood just to his right, a closed door to his left and a hall leading deeper into the house just ahead. Harry dropped his bag on a chair near him and opened the door. It led to the dining room, the table already set for two. Harry backed out of the room and slammed the door shut, but immediately went back in. He was prepared to see some upsetting things and couldn’t let something as innocent as dinnerware set him off already.

It was dark in the dining room so he pulled back the curtain to let in the sun. Tiny dust motes danced through the air and he turned, pointedly ignoring the table as he examined a few framed pictures on the wall. Multiple Lily and James Potters beamed at him, and even an infant baby Harry waved a chubby little fist in a family portrait. Harry smiled softly and walked closer, pressing his fingertips to the glass. Lily raised a hand toward him and smiled, her mouth forming the words ‘I love you’.

Hot tears welled in Harry’s eyes and he stepped back, taking off his glasses to rub his face with his sleeve. “I’m alright. I knew this was going to be hard. I’m alright.”

He moved on to the next room and found the kitchen. It was a spacious and warm room despite the day’s chill, with brown tile floors and a red brick oven. The room was mostly empty, everything neatly kept in its place. A few windows overlooked the side and back yards as well as a glass door leading to an outdoor patio, and through that he could see a small garden.

A humanoid shape among the overgrown plants made Harry jump. He let out a loud yelp and pulled out his wand, but quickly realized it was only a statue. The back door swung open as he walked outdoors to get a closer look at the worn stone figure. It was a forlorn woman with a missing nose and smooth eyes. One hand curled up to her breast, a tendril of ivy snaking through the curve of her arm, the other hand hanging empty at her side.

“Hello ma’am, you have a lovely garden.” Harry said, lightly touching the statue’s cheek. The stone was cold and he could see many fine cracks running through the surface.

He went back inside to put the kettle on for some tea, letting it warm over a fire in the muggle fashion while he continued exploring the lower level of the house. There was a sitting room attached to the kitchen, a cozy room with overstuffed armchairs and a very soft couch that would serve as a perfect bed. The fireplace was in working order, quickly filling the room with crackling warmth. A jar of expired floo powder sat on the mantle beside a framed photograph of himself draped in lacy baby clothes. He smiled as he studied the wriggling child, wondering whose idea it was to put him in such a ridiculous outfit.

The kettle screamed from the other room and Harry returned to the kitchen. He fixed himself a steaming mug of black tea and brought it back to the sitting room. A quick spell made the drink a suitable temperature and he sat down for a moment, savoring the flavor and admiring the furnishings surrounding him. His parents clearly had a fondness for Gryffindor colors, given the rich red wallpaper and baroque gold elements embellishing the furniture and rug.

He left his half-finished mug on a table and continued his exploration. There was a door on the side of the staircase he hadn’t noticed before. He opened it to peer inside. He had expected a small cupboard, but was surprised to see a magically enlarged staircase leading to an unfinished basement. A light flickered on when he stepped foot on the stairs, so he ducked under the low door frame and walked into the chilly lower level. 

The cement floor was freezing against his bare feet. The room was small, or at least it seemed small considering the amount of furniture crammed into the space. White sheets covered most of it, giving the impression of a basement crowded with ghosts. It was deathly silent and he stood shivering for a moment, deciding this was a room better explored with company on a later date. Right when he was about to go back upstairs he froze at a sudden noise.

A door upstairs slammed shut and he was certain he heard creaking footsteps overhead. A shiver ran up his spine as he stood there motionless, listening. Another creak sounded overhead, prompting him to burst into action. He dashed up the stairs, wand at the ready. But there was nothing there.

Panting wildly, he tried to steady his pounding heart. The house was as silent as before. He slowly creeped through the lower level, looking for any sign of disturbance, but nothing seemed to be amiss. After a while he decided he must have left the kitchen door open earlier and the wind had slammed it shut. The sound of footsteps were likely just typical old house noises. Feeling somewhat foolish, he resumed his exploration.

Upstairs was considerably larger than the bottom floor, extensive use of expansion charms likely the reason why Gringotts was so concerned with taking measures to prohibit apparition until it passed an inspection. The hours flew by as Harry went through each room, going through books and old paperwork to get some insight on what his parents were really like. He found his mother’s old journal in a desk drawer and put it in the pile of things to take home. It felt wrong to read it, but it felt precious nonetheless so he planned on bringing it back to his London flat. He also set aside a watch that must have belonged to his father.

He brought down a pile of old sketchbooks that had belonged to his mother and poured through them in the sitting room. The day flew by and he eventually looked up to see the sun had long since set. Feeling somewhat sleepy and very emotionally exhausted, he set aside the spiral bound book and stretched out on the plush couch. He was just about to doze off when a long creak against the floor upstairs threw him to his feet.

He froze, listening carefully, and heard the definite sound of footsteps from above. Clutching his wand, he slowly walked toward the staircase. It went silent again, as if it were trying to move about undetected but it was too late. Harry knew something was up there. A righteous fury burned through him at the thought of somebody invading his parent’s home. He marched up the stairs, not bothering to keep his footsteps quiet. This was his home and he was going to hunt the intruder down.

The upper floor began with a long hall leading to three bedrooms, a library and an office. Harry paused at the top of the stairs, listening. It was as silent as a tomb and he shook off a shiver of terror that told him to turn and run. Light sprang to life along the walls as he moved to the door to his left and flung it open.

An empty bedroom cast in pale blue moonlight sat silently, long-abandoned. He left the door open and turned to open another, going through each room in order until he came to the last, seeing no trace of any other inhabitant. He spun around to face the stairs just in time to see a shadowed figure quickly descend. A stupefy fired from his wand and missed wildly. He ran after them.

The sound of feet slapping against the wood floors led him down the hall to the kitchen and out the back door. Cold night air shocked his lungs and his bare feet cramped as he burst outside. Heavy breath fogged his glasses, making it hard to see even as he cast a lumos. All around him were the sounds of a night in late autumn; soft breeze against dead silence.

The lumos reflected off the stone woman, turning her bone white. He hurried down a dirt path leading through some hedges that had long been left to grow wild. A rustle against branches told him he was headed in the right direction.

Harry and the intruder were alone with the stars, sprinting through the overgrowth. Sharp bare branches held him back like claws and he had to push past them to keep up. Finally he ran into a clearing surrounded by dormant rose bushes and wizened trees. A bench waited in the middle of the clearing and beside it stood a cloaked figure.

They turned, red eyes reflecting Harry’s light. Harry’s breath caught in his throat before he gasped out ‘Riddikulus!’

The spell bounced off Voldemort’s chest. He laughed quietly and began to slowly approach Harry. His features were inhuman, just as serpentine as Harry remembered from all those years ago.

“No, no, fuck off- you’re supposed to be dead!” Harry stepped back, shaking his head in horror. 

Voldemort only continued to walk forward. He pressed Harry back against a bare rose bush, unnaturally long white fingers curling into Harry’s shirt. Harry gasped and grunted as he tried to push the man away. His wand fell out of his hand and clattered to the ground, its light guttering out as thorns scratched against his neck, tangling into his hair. Voldemort lifted him with one hand and hung him on the branches. They curled around Harry, shifting down under his weight just enough for his toes to barely scratch at the ground.

Voldemort stepped back, barely visible in the light of a partial moon. He watched the younger man intently for a long moment before speaking, “I’ve been waiting to get you alone for a long time, Mr. Potter.”

“The fuck do you want with me?” Harry seethed, thrashing wildly as the branches held fast.

Voldemort’s hand shot forward, running a hand up Harry’s arm and coming to rest on his cheek, “I doubt you’d believe me if I said I wanted to have a conversation.”

The contact between their skin felt oddly, terribly pleasant. Harry’s pulse slowed when his heart should have felt like it was about to burst from his throat. He strained to pull back his head, arching away from the man, “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t really think you could escape me so easily, did you?” Voldemort murmured. He scraped his fingers down Harry’s cheek, tracking them along his jaw. “After all the time we spent together in your mind, just the two of us.”

“Oh.” Harry frowned, “This is a dream, isn’t it? Some sort of weird subconscious message showing up since I’m sleeping in my parent’s house.”

“You may believe that if you wish.” Voldemort’s thin lips twisted up into a lopsided smirk, a sliver of sharp teeth flashing in the moonlight. He grasped Harry’s jaw with a firm grip and darted forward as if smelling him. He murmured into his ear, “I can taste it on you. The dark magic. You’ve been experimenting.”

Cold panic seized Harry’s gut. “I haven’t actually done anything, I’ve just been studying-”

“Studying, yes. Comprehending. Meditating on it, even.” his breath made Harry shiver, cold air tickling his throat, “You’ve opened the door and now anything can come through. Be glad I got to you first.”

Harry reared his head back and slammed it into Voldemort’s brow. The man stumbled back and whatever magical grip he had on Harry faltered. The branches stopped fighting and Harry tore himself free. He kicked through the scattered wood and edged away from Voldemort, who stood back and let him move.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know this was coming.” Voldemort said, watching as Harry tried to inch toward his wand, “I had already damaged your soul in this very home, and you’ve picked the scab. Did you not expect consequences?”

“Well I certainly didn’t expect to see anybody rise from the grave.” Harry replied.

“Stupid child, our connection may be a wounded and bloodied thing, but as long as it persists I will never leave this plane. Try as I might, a part of me will always be connected to you.” Voldemort said, his words striking fear in Harry’s heart. 

Harry shook his head slowly, “That’s not what…”

“That’s not what the others told you?” Voldemort scoffed, “They know nothing. There is no escape.”

He darted forward with inhuman speed, snatching the front of Harry’s shirt again. Harry shivered as those red eyes poured over him, a dizzying sensation rushing down his spine to curl hot and alive in his belly. Voldemort smiled and reached his other hand up to cup Harry’s face. He dragged his thumb against Harry’s lips, pushing in as Harry gasped.

The bony digit slid against Harry’s tongue and he moaned around it, barely hearing Voldemort as he hissed more words into his ear. Telling him how the dark had claimed him, had always claimed him, how it was only a matter of time until Harry accepted his birthright. Then the thumb pulled away with a wet pop, smearing Harry’s spit down his chin.

“But why you..? Why are you here?” Harry finally gasped, burning under those red eyes.

“Because I want to.” Voldemort dragged a hand down Harry’s chest, pushing up under his shirt. His freezing hand sent a shiver through Harry, one of cold and insidious pleasure. “Don’t tell me you don’t want it too.”

Harry dangled on a rope hanging off the ledge of sanity, hot desire pushing him closer and closer toward Voldemort. The rope snapped and he shot his hands up, grabbing hungrily. Their lips smashed together, Harry’s soft open mouth moaning against Voldemort’s sharp teeth. 

Voldemort pulled Harry’s shirt up over his head and Harry clawed at the clasps on Voldemort’s robe before pushing the heavy garment off his shoulders. The Dark Lord was fully nude under his robe and Harry groaned at the sight of his slim pale body and already hard cock. They clashed together, tongue against tongue, slowly backing up against the stone bench. Voldemort sat, pulling Harry into his lap. Harry straddled him, pressing the bulge in his pants against Voldemort’s flat stomach. Voldemort arched his hips up into Harry’s, and Harry ground down on him with a desperate fury. 

Harry had wanted this, yearned for it for years, ever since those first terrible dreams that haunted him as a teenager. This driving desire for something so perverse, so against anything in his world, had been pushing him toward madness and all the tension he carried on his soul shattered as he finally gave in.

Magic bled out of their bodies, writhing like serpents as the two tangled around each other. Harry could scarcely tell where one ended and the other began, his mind falling down into the dark well of their long-abandoned connection as Voldemort vanished his pants and ran those cold hands down to cup his ass. Magic pooled out of his fingers in a slick warm substance that coated Harry’s skin, trickling deliciously around and within him. Harry pressed one arm around Voldemort’s back, the other reaching down to push their cocks together. Their hands made a ring around both of their members, sliding with that hot substance Voldemort had drizzled over them. They thrust together and Voldemort curled forward to sink his sharp teeth into Harry’s shoulder. 

Harry cried out at the pain, tilting his head back and Voldemort moved his teeth to his exposed throat. He tore open flesh, biting and sucking at the bloody wound. Harry clung to him, grinding more and more in frantic pleasure. Precum drooled out of their heads, Voldemort’s shining black like ink. The sight of that black fluid frothing against Harry’s skin was horrifying and he came hard, shooting white ropes between them. 

Voldemort laughed, a deep rumbling sound bubbling forth from his chest. He moved a hand down, reaching behind to prod at Harry’s hole with a slick magical finger. It slid in with minimal effort as Harry collapsed against him. Voldemort spun him around and repositioned Harry to sit down on his cock. He pushed in slightly, then lifted Harry back up, then lowered him slowly all the way down.

Harry slumped backward against him, groaning helplessly as he was stretched wide open and his cock stiffened again. Voldemort reached around to fondle his balls, squeezing them lightly as they found a rhythm. A hand reached up to squeeze Harry’s left nipple, mouth moving to leave another bloody mark on his shoulder. Harry was enveloped in Voldemort’s grip, panting and grunting as he rolled in his lap.

As Voldemort grew closer he shifted, slowly lifting Harry to his feet. They turned so Harry could drape over the bench, pressing his face against his forearms as Voldemort pumped faster, harder. Harry’s teeth snapped together with each thrust, a stroking hand around his cock dragging him back down into oblivion. Voldemort came, taking Harry with him.

Harry thought it was over and he began to push himself back up when Voldemort took hold of his ass and shoved his tongue inside. Harry’s knees buckled, but Voldemort held him steady as he retrieved some of his own cum with his tongue. He then pulled away and spun Harry around to spit it into his mouth.

The black substance was thick and rich, like dark chocolate or sharp copper blood. A shiver racked Harry’s whole body as it slid down his throat. A deep animalistic noise pushed up from deep within him, forcing past his lips as he went limp, collapsing to the ground.

Harry awoke to sunlight pouring onto his face through the bare tree limbs overhead. His clothes were folded on the bench, his wand radiating a warming charm in his hand. He stood up slowly and got dressed before trudging through the frosty grass back to the house.


End file.
